


good intentions, bad intuition

by loonyloopyluna



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Remix, Think Outside the Love Square Month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyloopyluna/pseuds/loonyloopyluna
Summary: Nino's getting worried about Chat Noir; he acts like he's homeless, he might be a stripper. Nino's got to do something to help.Chat, meanwhile, is starting to get very confused.





	good intentions, bad intuition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlyaBug (MorphologicalMayhem)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorphologicalMayhem/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Misunderstanding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551634) by [AlyaBug (MorphologicalMayhem)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorphologicalMayhem/pseuds/AlyaBug). 



Nino was no stranger to nighttime visits from Chat Noir. Chat had an ego that loved to be stoked by his favorite fan. It was nice, truth be told, and he wasn’t looking to complain; they’d spill their frustrations to each other, or talk about the weather, or listen to music, or just chill out. Lately, however, Chat seemed to be coming by all the time, and Nino was starting to form his own suspicions…

The final piece fell into place when one of Chat’s usual rants about an argument he’d had with his father was cut short by a loud rumble. Chat hugged his stomach and grinned sheepishly at Nino. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten yet today.”

“Dude, it’s three in the afternoon,” Nino said.

“It’s Saturday!” Chat protested.

Nino simply shook his head in disbelief and walked out his bedroom door without a word. Chat glanced around nervously--was he supposed to follow? Stay there? Leave? But Nino returned quickly with a few bags of snacks. He pushed them into Chat’s chest, snagged a bag of potato chips for himself, and sat back down.

He popped a chip into his mouth. “So, you were saying?” Nino prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Chat’s shoulders relaxed and he shifted the snacks to his lap. “I mean, it's like my dad doesn't want me around,” he continued. “He wants to be able to say he has control over me, but he only ever talks to me to lock me up, and ignores me half the time anyway. It's just-- good to get away, you know?”

Nino thought of Adrien, and the trouble he'd gone through just to go to a normal school. This guy’s dad sounded a thousand times worse. “Yeah, man, I know.”

* * *

Adrien walked in on Marinette yelling at Nino, which was a surprising sight, to say the least.

“What do you mean, you don't know?” she shouted.

“It means I don't know!” Nino shot back. “I can't just straight-up ask him, can I? If he's already in a dangerous situation, I don't want to make things worse. And he comes to me for a break from all that. I don't want to make things weird a-and scare him off.”

“Yeah, well, things are already pretty weird if he's living on the streets,” Marinette bit out, slumping back into her seat.

Adrien sat down and gave Nino a quizzical look. “What's going on?” he whispered, glancing back at Marinette, who was pointedly looking at her phone. “Dude, what did you do?”

Nino sighed. “I didn't _do_ anything, and that's why she's pissed. Listen, man, your dad's rough on you sometimes. Have you ever thought about running away? Not just to school, but, like, for good?”

 _More times than I can count_ , Adrien thought, but simply nodded. Nino sighed and buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his eyes underneath his smudged glasses.

“Dude, what's up?” Adrien pressed.

Nino heaved a heavy sigh. “There's this guy I know. And his situation at home isn't the greatest, and I don't think he eats very often, and--Marinette thinks he's homeless, and she might not be... wrong.”

Adrien frowned. “That’s really rough,” he said slowly. “I guess--I mean, gosh, if you don't want to ask outright, the best you can do is drop hints. Maybe you could invite him to spend the night at your place? Just see how he takes it? And work from there?”

Nino grimaced. “No, I definitely don’t think-- I mean, he’s always the one to ask _me_ what’s wrong. And if something’s up with him, he’d tell me. I’m worried, but I don’t think--” He broke off and, seeing Marinette glowering down at him, continued in a hushed voice, “I don’t think it’s _that_ bad. Yet.” Nino shrugged. “Dude’s been having a bad couple of weeks, anyway. I made him a mixtape. That always seems to make people feel better.”

“Yeah, it does,” Adrien grinned, nudging Nino with his shoulder. He had a full shelf in his bedroom filled with mixes Nino had put together for him, for all kinds of moods. He thought for a moment, then dug around in his bag, pulling out a crumpled bank note. He smoothed it out on the desk and slid it over to Nino. “Here. Give him this, too.”

Nino squinted down at the offering. “Twenty euros? Dude, no way. I can’t…”

“I’m serious,” Adrien insisted. He tucked the bill into Nino’s hand, closing his fingers firmly around it. “If he needs it, great. If not… well, my dad’s rich. He’s not going to get mad at me for wasting twenty euros.”

Nino couldn’t argue with his logic. “Okay. Thanks, seriously.”

Adrien smiled. Nino was a worrier at heart. Maybe it was nothing, but it warmed him to the core to see Nino care so much about his friends.

* * *

As it happened, Nino didn't see Chat Noir again for several days. It was enough time for Marinette to thaw out her cold shoulder and send him a massive list of homeless shelters and soup kitchens and other resources that she’d looked up when she was too mad to talk to him. He knew she was a wonderfully compassionate person, and he was grateful for her concern, but he felt guilty for airing his suspicions in the first place. It wasn't his business to share.

Nino spent each passing day wondering if Chat would show up. What was first just a CD grew until Nino had a gift bag, beribboned and shiny, standing vigil for him on a corner of his desk. Finally, on Saturday night, Chat stopped by.

It was a little past midnight and Nino, who had just jerked from an hours-long haze of video editing and realized how late it was, was just beginning to think of going to bed, when he heard a tentative scratching at the window. Though it was an infinitely creepier sound, they'd found that knocking startled Nino's dog and alerted his parents to his late-night guest, so they'd decided on a quieter signal. It gave Nino a heart attack every time he heard it, but his heart always raced when he saw Chat, anyway.

He rolled over in his chair to flip the latch, then scooted back to his computer. Chat let himself in, opening the window and sliding inside noiselessly. Without a word, he crossed over to Nino’s bed and sat down heavily, closing his eyes and leaning his back up against the wall for a solid, silent minute.

Nino looked on apprehensively. He and Chat had been spending a fair amount of time together lately, and in his bedroom, no less; they’d definitely left “hero and fan” behind a few months ago and were crossing into “friends” territory, but Chat had never been so casual around him. They had just reached that stage of friendship that he and Adrien had just barely passed through: being overwhelmingly and unfailingly polite to each other, treading new ground daily and cautious to overstep boundaries. He wasn’t bothered by this sudden change, per se, but it was unexpected.

“Hey, man,” Nino began, trying for a casual tone to match Chat’s mood. It came out much more over-the-top than he intended, and Chat’s eyes flicked open in surprise. “What, uh, what’s up?”

But Nino could tell, now that he was looking Chat in the eyes. He was _tired_. The mask might have hidden dark circles and pale, drawn skin, but there was no hiding his bloodshot eyes, though Nino thought distractedly that they looked dark rather than red. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his eyes were green. Was his blood green, too? Maybe Chat Noir was a Vulcan.

 _Focus_.

Nino rubbed at his eyes as if he could erase his own fatigue, and smiled at Chat. “I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he continued, “it’s great to see you. But it’s late, and you look… well, if you were standing up, I’d say you look like you’re about to fall over--”

“I already did that,” Chat said hoarsely. He grinned in that delirious way that seems to overcome the truly exhausted or the unspeakably drunk, and his face relaxed somewhat. “Sorry, dude. I am _really_ tired. I think this is the first time I’ve sat down since this morning.”

“Another akuma attack?” Nino asked. “Jeez, doesn’t Hawk Moth sleep?”

Chat shook his head. “Nah, this was for my other job. My ‘real’ job, I guess. If I had a choice, I’d quit, but, well, being a superhero doesn’t exactly come with a paycheck.” He smiled ruefully. “Sorry, I shouldn’t complain. I know that’s not important. I’m just _really_ starting to hate my other job.”

Nino shook his head. “No worries, dude. I get it. My buddy Adrien’s the same way. I mean, his circumstances are a little different; I don’t think he needs it for the money, but his dad makes him do it all the same. So, what do you do?”

Chat fidgeted. “I, um… I guess you could say I perform.”

“You’re an actor?” Nino’s eyes lit up. “Dude, that’s awesome! I’ve been thinking about making another movie, and I could totally--”

“Uh, not exactly,” Chat interrupted nervously. There was no use in getting Nino’s hopes up, and make promises he wouldn’t be able to keep down the line. “I mean, it’s kind of a… unique job? Well, a lot of people do it, I’m sure, but it’d be a lot easier for you to figure out who I was because it’s not the _most_ common…” Chat trailed off into a huge yawn. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be short with you. I just… can’t really tell you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, no, of course!” Nino said, nodding furiously. “As long as you’re safe, man.” Chat smiled uncomfortably, and he winced; not the best transition he could come up with, but he soldiered on, pretending to change the subject. “Oh! I have something for you.”

Chat’s ears pricked up. “Really?”

Nino leaned back to snatch up the gift bag and tossed it toward him. “Yeah. Open it when you get--after you leave. I don’t want you to, uh, leave anything behind.”

Chat glanced down at the bag in his hands and prodded at the tissue paper. “Thanks, man. It’s not my birthday or anything. I mean… what’s it for?”

“You know.” Nino shrugged. “Just, um, being a friend?”

“Oh,” Chat said softly. It had been an infuriatingly long day full of endless runways and flashing lights and booming music, and he had a headache the size of a metro car. He hadn’t expected anything more from Nino but a place to relax for a few minutes.

His vision grew blurry. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, then launched himself at Nino, gripping him tightly into a hug. Nino reeled for a few seconds, then hugged him back just as tightly, closing his eyes and burrowing his head into the crook of Chat’s neck. A sharp, familiar smell lingered in Chat’s hair, and Nino drew back.

“Dude, no offense,” he chuckled, “but you smell _rank_.” He went to tousle Chat’s hair playfully, but his hand instead got caught in his bangs. His hair crunched audibly when Nino tried to untangle his fingers, opting instead to comb Chat’s bangs back from his eyes. Something sparkled on his forehead in the low light. “And you’ve got, uh, glitter on your face,” Nino muttered.

Chat grimaced. “Sorry. I haven’t taken a shower in a while. I probably smell like I’m made of cigarettes, huh? Oh, jeez, I hope I didn’t get glitter on your bed. That stuff gets everywhere.” He leaned over and began brushing furiously at Nino’s blanket.

“So, uh,” Nino blurted out, “do you smoke?”

Chat frowned and gave Nino’s blanket one last swipe. “Me? No. A lot of people I work with do, though, especially the older guys. Sorry. I’m not trying to stink up your room.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine--” Nino protested, but Chat was already standing up.

“I should leave before I fall asleep here,” Chat said, yawning widely once again. He slid the window open and then turned back to Nino, clutching his gift tightly to his chest. “Thanks for letting me stop in. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. N-no problem,” Nino replied faintly. His brain was suddenly whirring--and worrying--a mile a minute, trying to process all this new information. He sat there dumbly for a few minutes; it wasn’t until a cold breeze slipped through the still-open window that he snapped out of it, and he shook his head and headed for bed.

When he woke up in the morning, he had glitter in his hair.

* * *

One of the perks of having _the longest day ever_ was that Adrien got to sleep in the next morning. He rolled out of bed a little after noon and landed on the floor in a dirty, smelly heap. He had barely been able to make it through the window and to his bed last night, let alone take a shower. Something underneath him crunched and for a horrible, sleep-addled moment, he thought he’d landed on Plagg, before remembering Nino’s gift the night before.

He tore the bag open; surprisingly for its size, it held a lot. A pair of croissants, cold and now probably a little stale, wrapped in a grease-stained napkin; a handful of tiny, sample-sized bottles of shampoo; an envelope in a sealed plastic bag; and a CD in a hard plastic case.

Adrien munched on one of the croissants as the shower warmed up and emptied out two bottles of the fancy-smelling shampoo trying to get dried, gummy remains of the hairspray out of his hair. Then he sat back down on his bed, clean and relaxed and polishing off the second croissant, to look over the other presents.

The CD case was blank, except for a sticker on the cover that said “- Nino.” A few song titles were printed in marker on the CD’s surface, and Adrien grinned. Nino had gotten a surprisingly good read on what kind of music he’d like, considering he didn’t know Chat nearly as well as he did Adrien.

He turned to the envelope and slid it out of its protective bag. Instead of holding a letter, though, it contained only two things: a folded sheet of paper with a list printed on it, and a twenty-euro note. Adrien unfolded the paper and scanned the list. It seemed to be mostly homeless shelters and restaurants, with notes scribbled in the margins about who gave out free food and which places had curfews.

Plagg had dug into the empty bag and was laying like a prince, surrounded by discarded tissue paper. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Stuff,” Adrien replied, mystified. Why would Nino give this to him?

Then he remembered Nino’s friend. “Oh,” he said. “He must’ve found a lot of great places when he was helping his friend out, and maybe he thought Ladybug and I might be looking for places to volunteer? I guess the money is… for a donation?”

Plagg shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt, I guess. If you ever have any free time that’s _not_ in the middle of the night.” He sniffed one of the balls of paper around his paws. “Did you save any of that croissant for me?”

* * *

The first thing Adrien noticed when he saw Nino on Monday was that he looked completely burnt out, and not in the way he would look when he was up until the early hours of the morning, coming to school on three hours of sleep and a Red Bull. Something was definitely bothering him.

The second thing that caught his eye was that Nino was sitting in the wrong row.

He was sandwiched between Marinette and Alya, and the three of them were whispering intently, their heads bent low in conference.

“Yeah, I know,” Nino was saying. “God.”

Adrien hitched his bag up higher on his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“His homeless friend’s a stripper,” Alya said bluntly.

Marinette reached behind Nino’s back and swatted her arm. “Alya!”

Nino, however, climbed over Alya to take his place at his own bench. Adrien slid in next to him, and rested his hand on Nino’s shoulder.

“That’s…” he stammered. “Not great. Wow. Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Nino said. “Dude, what do I do?”

Adrien shrugged helplessly. “The best you can do, I guess. Be there for him. Sounds like he needs it.” He dug into his bag, past Plagg’s sleeping form, and pulled out a crumpled bill. “Here.”

Nino stared at him. “No, man, not again.”

“I’m rich,” Adrien reminded him. “Take it.” Chat Noir certainly didn’t need it, and if Nino was determined to spend twenty euros on someone, it may as well be someone who did.

Nino squinted at it suspiciously. “I don’t know. I’d feel weird if I just kept giving him money. I don’t want the dude to think I’m pitying him. I just… want to be there for him, you know?”

His face shone with such sincerity and innocence that Adrien had to suppress a smile. “I know. But there’s no reason you can’t support him emotionally _and_ give him money. Hold on.” He folded the bill into a bow-tie shape, one of the little tricks he’d learned to keep himself busy backstage. He wiggled it at Nino. “See? Now it’s _fun_.”

Nino snorted. “All right, dude. But if he’s not homeless, I swear to God, you’re getting this back.”

Adrien beamed. “Thank you. I hope I never see it again.”

* * *

The next time Chat saw Nino, it was because he’d been summoned, which was a weird experience in itself. Nino had pulled some strings with Alya, who had contacted Ladybug, asking her to get in touch with her partner and meet Nino at the park by his collège.

It was dusk, and Nino sat by himself, kicking up dust underneath a bench. Chat watched in silence for a minute. He still looked worried.

He dropped down next to Nino. “Hey.”

“Oh. Hi!” Nino replied.

“Thanks for all the stuff the other day,” Chat continued. “That was super nice.”

“Yeah!” Nino nodded. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Is this about the money?” Chat asked. “Because I totally get it. I was a little confused seeing it in there at first, and I totally get it if you need it back.”

Nino tapped his fingers together. “No, that was for you. Uh, here, I’ve actually got some more…” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a bow-tie-shaped bill, pressing it into Chat’s palm.

Chat lifted it up to his eyes. “Oh, cool! You know origami, too?”

“What?” Nino asked. “No, my, uh, best bud did that. Listen, I need to talk to you about something.

“I’m worried about you. I know what your deal is. I know what you...do.” Nino coughed. “It’s not safe to be an underaged stripper. So please. Tell me how I can help you.”

Chat sat in shocked silence for a moment. Then everything fell into place.

“Wait, am _I_ your homeless friend?” he sputtered, looking down at the money in his hand and then back over at Nino.

Nino looked embarrassed. “Um, yeah? A-are you not…?”

“Nope,” Chat confirmed. “Not homeless, and not a stripper.”

Nino buried his face in his hands. “Oh God. Can I die now? I think that’s the only safe way out of this conversation.”

Chat laughed and looped his arm around Nino’s shoulder. “Hey, I appreciate the concern, though. I don’t know of anyone else who’d worry so much for me.”

Nino blushed. “Come on, man, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Chat admitted. “Maybe my best friend-- oh, wait…” He bumped Nino’s shoulder with his free fist and grinned.

Chat’s hand dangled down and brushed against Nino’s arm, and he laced their fingers together. “It’s kind of sad if I’m your best friend,” Nino scoffed. “Dude, you need to get a life outside of this whole hero thing. Maybe you _should_ be a stripper.”

“Hey, I have a life,” Chat protested. He twisted Nino’s hand in his, brought it to his mouth, kissed it gently. “I guess it’s my fault you’re in both halves.”

Nino laughed. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“You’ve got glitter on your face,” Chat said instead. “This isn’t a fashion show, Nino.”

**Author's Note:**

> [come talk to me on tumblr](chatchevalier.tumblr.com)  
>  and check out [ Alya-bug](alya-bug.tumblr.com), too!!


End file.
